Catch 22
by shialuvr222
Summary: A routine checkup of an anonymous tip turns fatal for Tim - but since when has he let something silly like being dead slow him down? Supernatural. Black humor. Dedicated to dnachemlia.
1. Prologue

_A/N:_ Hallo! I have returned! :D This story is one of a few supernatural I've been meaning to write. I got the inspiration for it when I went to the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta the day after Christmas. AMAZING place, if you're ever in Atlanta you _have_ to go. Anyhoo, this is my first real attempt at anything supernatural, so forgive me if it sucks. Tell me, but forgive me. Descriptions, especially of landscapes, are not my strong point, and that is most of what this chapter consists of, so bear with me. Anyhow, this is going to be a mix of a lot of things: a bit of angst here, some black humor there (or at least attempted), a lot of supernatural and perhaps a bit of romance (NOT slash). There'll be other genres mixed in there too, for good measure.

To end this author's note, I will say that this story is dedicated to dnachemlia, who is the reason I decided to try out supernatural fics for myself. Also, PLEASE review! Free cookies to reviewers!

_Disclaimer_: I don't own or claim to own anything concerning, controlling or otherwise dictating NCIS. I have no affiliation with CBS or any of the actors, producers, directors or writers of the show; the only thing I own is this story and an entirely overactive imagination.

XXX

A small bluebird sang its morning melody as the sun lazily climbed above the horizon, bringing with it a warmth only summer could achieve. The sky welcomed its visitor with a splay of pinks, oranges and baby blues. Vibrant green leaves rustled as the inhabitants of the rural habitat woke and began to search for their morning meal.

The bird paused it's cheerful chirruping to watch a timid doe make her way to the bank of the lake and take a drink. Ripples went out to the far bank and echoed back again, stirring the sleeping fish into motion.

Below the surface of the lake, things were slower. Trout and bass leisurely occupied the middle of the water, while smaller fish swam along the bottom. The occasional tadpole happened by, though they generally stayed closer to the shore. Several minnows formed a school and patrolled the lakebed. One in particular, however, strayed from the group. It noticed a shiny glint a ways off and went to investigate.

On arrival to the object, it discovered a gleaming silver chain, on one end connected to a spherical black weight that was rapidly sinking into the mud. Upon seeing the other end of the chain, however, the minnow immediately turned and darted in the other direction as fast as it's little fins could propel it.

The opposite side of the chain held an iron shackle that was fit tightly around a man's ankle. The man fought against the restraints as the lakewater rushed into his lungs, thrashing as the burning sensation of drowning coursed through his body. He cast one last look at the surface and pulled against the chains again before the lack of oxygen finally shut down his brain.

On the surface of the lake, the ripples stilled.

XXX

A/N: I know it's been a very long time since I uploaded or updated anything. I shall give you no excuses, but I will give you an apology. I'm sorry. :( I can't tell you how many times I've tried to write and nothing came out, so I won't try, but anyway, here I am! Just so you know, my New Year's Resolution is to update my WIP's in 2012, so I've been gearing up for that. I should be back regularly again :) I already have Chapter 2 written of this and am about to write three, so I hope to post a chapter every day until it's finished, but that probably won't happen. However, I hereby promise to update this at least once a week. If, at any point, I fail to update, you have permission to nudge, poke, push and persuade me until I comply.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Chapter 1 already? I know! :) Well, it turns out that last night I didn't end up working on Chapter 2 because I went out on an impromptu trip with a friend and my sisters. I won't be working on it tonight either, because I'm going to an all-nighter for New Year's, so if you get a chapter on tomorrow, it'll be one I wrote right then. Anyhow, if you don't get one tomorrow, _**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**_ I mentioned yesterday that my resolution this year is to update all of my WIPs, and I actually do plan on doing it this time. Wow, I can't believe that 2011 is gone already... Please review! I got a great response to the Prologue :D

XXX

Tim's mind was racing frantically. Normally he enjoyed it when his brain went into overdrive – he worked best that way – but for now, panic took precedence. He was reasonably sure that ball-and-chain drownings had taken place in every low-budget action film and drama television show, but in this case, he didn't have a stunt double. Unfortunately, the bonds seemed secure, and he didn't have a lockpick.

_Don't panic, _he told himself.

_It's a bit late for that, _he answered back.

_Well then, _stop_ panicking._

It took him a moment to realize that deep, calming breaths were out of the question. His lungs beginning to notice the lack of air, he promptly panicked again.

_You're going to die!_

_You can't get out of this._

_You didn't even get to say goodbye._

_Did you turn off the stove this morning?_

Finally, a question that might help surfaced.

_What would Gibbs do?_

_Whatever he had to._

Looking around, Tim noticed that he only had shackles on one foot. _If I could get my foot out of there…_

Hands unsteady, he reached for the heel of his shoe and removed his pocketknife, flipping it open with some difficulty. The burning ache was getting harder to ignore by the second. He lined the blade up with the lock on the shackle, closed his eyes and shoved.

The knife broke as it was slammed into the iron lock, the blade slipping and burying itself deep into his ankle. He let out an involuntary scream, a sound muffled by the clear, oppressive water. Most of his air reserve escaped, replaced by a small amount of the lake. He watched as blood leaked from his foot.

His lungs began to reject the water. This lead to coughing and sputtering, an act that released the last of his oxygen. With that, all reasonable thought was gone. He writhed and twisted against his restraints, which only served to push the blade deeper into his skin. He jerked against the chains until exhaustion from suffocation overtook him.

Then, there was a moment. It seemed to last forever, but was only a few moments in reality. In that moment, he could hear the blood pumping through his veins, pounding in his head, gushing out of his injury.

That was the moment that he felt his heart stop beating.

And then, it was over. The burning quickly faded away, his foot stopped bleeding, the pulse stopped. He felt incredibly still, and for a moment, even peaceful.

As his logic returned, he glanced around curiously.

_This is it?_

_Do I just sit here for eternity, then? I though more happened when you die._

He mentally shrugged. That was a bit disappointing.

A fish approached him. _Largemouth bass,_ he identified, recalling his high school biology class. How he remembered a class he took seventeen years ago, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. He waved the fish away.

That took a moment to sink in. He'd _waved_ it away.

He could still move.

Confused, he ordered his brain to move his hand. It complied without delay. He was reasonably sure that that wasn't supposed to happen.

_How is this scientifically possible? Are you sure you're dead?_

He took stock of his condition. _No pulse. No heartbeat. No vital organs operating._

Yes. He was dead.

Then something occurred to him. _What about Tony?_

They had been together when they were attacked. Checking out an anonymous tip, they had been hit from behind. The next thing he knew, he was sinking to the bottom of the lake.

He had to get out and find Tony. He stared at his ankle for a moment, an idea forming in his mind. He shrugged. It was worth a shot; he was desperate.

He removed his shoes and socks from his feet. He then took his shackled foot in both hands, praying to God that this wouldn't hurt as much as it promised to, and twisted.

Though suppressed by the water, the cracking sound of his ankle breaking was still sickening. He winced in preparation of the pain, but was surprised when all he felt was a twinge. The bone broke through his skin, and was only a few shades whiter.

With his foot at a different, not to mention unnatural, angle, he easily slipped it through the restraint and left the ball and chain to sink into the mud.

He made it from the center of the lake to the shore in a few short minutes, where he dragged himself onto the sand and lay there, gasping. Although air wasn't a requirement at the moment, it definitely felt good.

He closed his eyes and lay completely still, loving the feeling of the sun on his skin.

_Funny how you notice these things _after _you're dead._

XXX

A/N: Well? Did I ruin it? Make it better? I need to know! So, I don't know, review!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, don't even say it. I know I promised to update this every week, and I know that I'm an epic fail in that respect. I swear, since January 1st I have had NO inspiration for anything whatsoever. I've had a few ideas for new stories, but I haven't even been able to get those down.

Anyhow, I'm _really_ hoping that this chapter doesn't entirely ruin this story. **_Pleaseohplease _**review! I will love you for ever and ever and ever if you do :)

**A quick note:** As far as plot development, the only thing this chapter really contains is Tony finding Tim. It's not exactly a filler chapter, but it isn't especially important in the scheme of the story.

XXX

Tony forced his eyes open, waiting for the throbbing in his head to stop. Once it did, the world came back into focus. He took stock of his condition as his cognitive function slowly returned.

He seemed to be unhurt, but it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to see Ducky when they returned, just in case. His gun was still in its rightful place at his hip, and he appeared to be lying in the grass somewhere. He sat up and looked around, rubbing his sore head.

He was sitting against a tree in some kind of forest. The trees didn't look to be more than twenty to thirty feet high. Soft green grass flattened beneath his feet as he stood. The air was warm and hazy, a testimony to the summer morning it was. Sunshine drifted lazily through the leaves, giving the ground a dappled effect.

_Where's Tim?_ he wondered, glancing around and not seeing his partner. _What happened back there?_

Now that he thought about it, he remembered. An anonymous tip had come in late last night that there was a dead Naval officer in the middle of nowhere, Virginia. It was highly suspected that they were teenagers playing a prank, from the tone of the phone call and the unlikelihood of their claim, but NCIS was still legally obligated to investigate. Gibbs had sent him and McGee.

At eleven p.m.

When did they arrive, three?

No, four. Yes.

_You got out of the car, Tim did the same…Somebody hit you on the head…?_

_They hit Tim on the head._

That was the last thing he remembered.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he shook his head. It was all still foggy, but he'd give it time.

Gibbs was calling. He tried to pick up, but there was no signal out here in the woods.

_Thirty-six missed calls,_ the tiny screen informed him. Then the current one went to voicemail. _Thirty-seven._

"Tim!" He called, walking quickly in a random direction. "McGee!"

It wasn't long before he heard the sound of water. He remembered the supposed body was reportedly at a lake. He stepped out into the clearing.

There was a small body of water before him, a clear, crystalline pool untouched by the world. He noticed that farther down the body grew wider and branched off, rounding a corner he couldn't see. Lying there on the beach was the form of his partner, unusually pale and unnaturally still.

"Tim!" he cried, running across the grass to the dirt to the water's edge, where McGee lay. He was soaking wet from head to toe, his shoes and socks were missing and there was blood coming from somewhere. He wasn't breathing.

Tony tentatively reached out his arm and pressed his middle and index finger to Tim's neck, both hopeful and terrified of what he would find.

There was no pulse. Tim was dead.

Tony withdrew his hand, hanging his head in defeat. He stared at the pale face in shock, and tears began to fill his eyes.

"My God, Tim… I'm so sorry…"

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, not noticing the eyelids of the form opening, nor the head shifting positions.

"Are you crying, Tony?"

Tony screamed and scrambled backwards, sending sand flying in all directions as he did so. Tim sat up and brushed it off of his clothes, shooting Tony an annoyed glance.

"Do you mind?"

"You- But you're-"

Tim stretched his arms out in front of him as though he had been sleeping.

"You're dead," Tony finally managed.

"I noticed."

"How-"

"I don't know how, Tony, but calm down." Tim eyed the way he was standing at a distance. "I don't bite. You can come here."

Cautiously, Tony approached, dropping down onto the sand next to the younger man.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine. Not really much at all, actually."

"What happened?"

"I woke up as somebody was pushing me into the water. I had a ball and chain on my foot – like an actual antique ball and chain – and I tried to get out with my knife."

"And?"

"It ended up going into my ankle instead."  
>Tony visibly cringed. "Then what?"<p>

"I don't know, I guess… I guess I died."

"How do you know?"

"I can't really explain it."  
>"Well, where's the ball and chain?" Tony's face contorted. "Oh don't tell me this is like Ghost!"<p>

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance.

"1990, Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore, not to mention Whoopi Goldberg. I mean, who can forget Oda Mae Brown?"

"Tony, I'm not a floating spirit. I don't levitate pennies or spin chairs."

"Oh." The look on the older man's face was either relief or disappointment.

"I broke my ankle to get out."

Tony drew an involuntary breath. "Didn't that hurt?"

"Not really."

"Can I see it?"

"Go ahead."

He reached down and pulled up the cuff of his soaking black jeans to reveal white skin and whiter bone, edged with visible tissue. There was a shiny silver glint coming through from the other side, and the injury was slowly leaking blood onto the off-white sand.

He sucked in air through his teeth. "Ow," he commented, hesitantly reaching out and poking the bone. "You really don't feel that?"

"Nope."  
>"You're incredibly calm, McGee."<p>

"I know, it's kind of weird. But hey, so are you."

"Aside from the whole shouting and jumping away thing, I think I'm still in shock."

"'Shouting'? You screamed like an eleven-year-old girl, Tony."

The older man sent Tim a dark glance. "DiNozzos don't scream."

"Apparently they do."

"If Ziva hears about this, you're…" A puzzled look crossed the Senior Agent's face. "…Well, this is going to be difficult."

Tim snickered.

"What's so funny?"

"I'd like to see you threaten me, now that death is out of the picture."

"You underestimate me, Tim."

Tony's pocket vibrated again. He pulled his cell phone out and stared at it, sighing.

He didn't know how they were going to explain this to Gibbs.

XXX

A/N: I know, we didn't really go many places with this chapter. I hope it was able to sufficiently entertain you, though. I _really_ suck at writing humor, and while I didn't really try to in this case, I hope you at least maybe smiled at the Tim/Tony conversation. Please tell me what you thought :)


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I wrote this really randomly last night and I thought you guys might appreciate an update :3 I'm sorry it's been so long, but this is actually the first thing I've been able to write in almost two months. I've had a major creative block; I haven't even been able to draw. So if this sucks, I'm sorry :(

XXX

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Tony glanced around. They still didn't know what had happened or who their attackers were, not to mention where they were now. "Let's get in the car. We're vulnerable here."

Tim shrugged, climbing to his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he stood, a result of his broken ankle. Tony caught him before he fell, supporting his friend with his right arm and pocketing the vibrating phone with his left. The two of them hobbled up the beach to the car, the black paint just beginning to warm in the early summer sun.

Tim leaned against the vehicle, his small groan more of a reflex than an expression of pain. Tony nervously stared at the bleeding injury.

"How are you going to get around on that foot?"

Tim scanned the wound, grimacing at the idea that entered his head. Then again, he supposed it wasn't any worse than snapping his own ankle.

"This is probably going to hurt." He bit his lip and withdrew the pocketknife slowly, blood dripping from the blade. He then placed one hand on either side of his foot, setting his jaw.

"Oh God, McGee. I can't watch thi-"

A sharp crack interrupted him, and he clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to keep breathing. Tim was wincing visibly, but the action appeared to have been successful; the bones, while still partially visible, were no longer jutting out from his skin. He tested the ankle, applying a bit of weight at a time until he was sure he would be able to stand.

"Should we go?"

He walked calmly past Tony and opened the passenger door of the car. Tony remained frozen until McGee called, "DiNozzo!"

Tony turned. "Tim."

"Yes?"

"You just manually realigned your ankle bones."

"I noticed that."

"And then you walked on them."

"Very observant."

"That isn't normal."

"Neither is drowning."

"There's something wrong here."

"Did you really just figure that out?"

Tony shook his head and walked around to the driver's side of the car. Tim climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

They did their best to remember the way back to the road, but it took nearly twenty minutes to find the right trail. Once they were back on the highway, though, Tony retrieved his phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Gibbs."

"Why?"

"He's worried. He called almost forty times."

Gibbs picked up between the first and second ring. "_DiNozzo!_"

"Hey, boss."

"_Where are you? You two okay?_"

"Well-"

"We're fine, boss," Tim answered, snatching the phone from Tony. "Sorry we didn't pick up, we had terrible reception."

"_What happened at the scene?_"

"Just kids, nothing there."

"_Then why were you gone all night?_"

"We were going to head back right away, but we were both too tired to drive. We got a few hours in, and we're on the road now. We just got cell reception back."

"_I thought your cell was supposed to have a better signal than Tony's._"

"It got thrown in a lake, boss."

"_It got what?_"

"DiNozzo pushed me in."

There was a suppressed sigh from the other end of the line before Gibbs said, "_Fine. Just get back here ASAP._"

Tim replied with a "Yes, boss," despite the dialtone.

Tony looked incredulous. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Why did you lie to Gibbs?"

"What were you going to tell him? 'Hey, Gibbs. Tim died, but he's okay now.'"

"Bad things come from lying to Gibbs."

"I know that, but how can we tell the truth when we don't even know what it is? I don't know what happened back there, and neither do you."

Tony was dissatisfied. It was written clearly on his face.

"Look, let's just get back to D.C.. We'll figure out what to do."

"Fine," Tony sighed. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

XXX

Gibbs snapped his phone shut and looked at Ziva, who was listening intently. She had been as worried as him.

"They're fine," he growled as he left the room, probably in search of coffee. She stood and headed down to the lab to assure Abby that Tim and Tony were safe, as the Goth had been beside herself. It was odd, but she'd had a real gut feeling that something was very wrong.

It was still there.

XXX

A/N: I would love you forever if you reviewed! :D


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